


You're the Whole Toolbox

by bhunks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith, Bad Boy AU, Fluff, Garrison AU, Keith is out, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance is out, M/M, Mutual Pining, but Keith doesn’t pay attention so he doesn’t know that sjkdfh, do you hear me dreamworks?, hunk and pidge are good friends, pining lance, shit i wrote instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhunks/pseuds/bhunks
Summary: Lance thinks he's a cool punk. Keith think Lance is a tool. Keith thinks he's a normal person. Lance thinks Keith is a tool.





	1. Screwdriver

 

**Tuesday**

Lance was pining.

It took him maybe a week longer than Hunk to accept, but he was pining. For Keith. For the worst, most basic bad boy cliche he’d ever seen in his life. He was resigned to it, but he didn’t like it. 

So when he walked into Anatomy A/B and saw they had a project with pre-assigned pairs, and that his partner was Keith, his heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a giant ‘Fuck You’ from the universe.

He had multiple classes with Keith and he seemed antisocial, so Lance wasn’t entirely optimistic, but he could think of a way to break the ice. He ran through a million different ways to approach him in his head and straightened out his jacket, running a hand through his hair and sitting down. “Hey there, Kogane. The day’s almost as beautiful as you are.” He flashed a grin and tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t racing. 

Keith just side-eyed him. After a moment, he said, “You look like a tool.” 

He said it so flatly, and he hadn’t even turned his head all the way to look at him.

Lance spluttered.  _ What the fuck? _ “Wh-  _ what _ ? How can you say that with a straight face?” Keith’s response threw him for a loop. Who said that to someone? Especially as the  _ first thing _ they said to someone?  _ He thinks you’re a tool. _

Keith stared at him blankly. “Uh, easily. Because you look like a tool.” He gestured to Lance’s clothes. Lance looked down at himself and took in the black jeans, the Vans, and the _leather_ _jacket_. He decided to ignore the fact that he had piercings in right now. He looked back up, struck by Keith’s _blatant_ hypocrisy.

“You are  _ seriously _ one to talk,” Lance said, jabbing a finger at Keith’s bicep. Keith glanced down at his finger and frowned. “Have you  _ seen _ your closet? The  _ only _ things you wear are black. And you ride a  _ motorcycle _ , dude. Don’t think I haven’t seen it.”

“What, you pay that much attention to me?” Lance blanched, and Keith kept talking. “I wear black because it’s easy. You’re wearing it so you can look cool. News flash, it’s _not_ _working_.”

Lance didn’t like the hard edge in Keith’s tone. “Oh, yeah, cause being an asshole  _ so _ isn’t you being a wannabe punk. What crawled up your ass this morning?” he snapped. 

“I’m not  _ trying _ to be an asshole!”

“Oh, then I guess you’re just a shit conversationalist. Sorry, I didn’t realize I had to be a jackass in order to fulfill my bad boy aesthetic,” Lance said sarcastically, flipping open his binder a little more harshly than necessary.  _ Great fucking first impression, McClain, really botched this one. _

“You were a jackass from the moment you sat down,” Keith said, glaring at him. 

“I literally  _ complimented  _ you!”  _ Did your voice just crack? _

Keith rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m  _ sure _ . Can we just do this fucking project?”

“What do you have against being called ‘beautiful’?” Lance asked, writing his name at the top of the hand out too aggressively and breaking the tip of his pencil. “I mean, come on. Beautiful is gender-neutral. I’d kill a man to be called beautiful.”

Keith ignored him. “Which topic do you want to do for this project?”

“Either cardiovascular or endocrine,” Lance sighed, and Keith was standing up, walking to the front of the room to talk to the professor, presumably to tell her they picked their topic. 

Lance sat there for a moment, trying to think of how to rectify this conversation. When Keith came back, he said, “Hey, man-” but Keith cut him off.

“Jenny and Jeremiah took endocrine, so we’re doing cardiovascular,” Keith said, sitting back down. 

“Oh, okay. I was hoping for that one anyway,” Lance said, and he shrugged. “When do you want to work on this?”

“Uh, right now?” Keith asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s a class project.”

Lance stared at him. “You know it’s due next Monday, right? We’re gonna have to do work outside of class.”

Keith scrunched his eyebrows like the last thing he wanted to do was see Lance outside of class (which, yeah, kind of stung, but Lance wasn’t surprised). “Oh.”

“My dorm is 26C, so you-”

“Do you have a roommate?”

“Uh.” Lance blinked. “Yeah. Hunk Garrett.”

“Just come to my dorm,” Keith said, furrowing his brows slightly. “I don’t have a roommate. And I don’t- I don’t really want to… I don’t know. Can we just go to mine?”

Something about the way Keith said it made Lance feel bad. “Yeah, no problem. Where’s your dorm?”

“7E, so the fifth floor. I don’t care when you come.” With that, Keith moved on, and they did as much of the project as they could in their 90 minute period.

  
  


“He wanted me to go to  _ his _ dorm instead, Hunk,” Lance said, flopping on his bed. “Then he said he didn’t care when I come, but I don’t really know when to go.”

“I don’t think he cares when you go,” Hunk said, turning the page in his book.

“That’s what he  _ says _ ,” Lance said, sitting up. “But people say things they don’t mean all the time.”

“Lance, listen,” Hunk said, placing a bookmark in his book and closing it. “So, you got off on the wrong foot. Big deal! It happens. The first time we met, you spilled the shitty cafeteria applesauce on my vest.”

“I still feel bad about it every time you mention it,” Lance groaned, holding his face in his hands.

“Yeah, I thought you were a dick, because of, you know, your fashion choices and the unnecessary amount of piercings,” Hunk said. “But then you were really nice and apologized. Maybe if you say sorry, you’ll be fine.”

“Please don’t shatter my image,” Lance said, and he stood up, shouldering his backpack. “I work hard for it. Okay, it’s 5:30. That’s a pretty normal time to work on a project, right?”

“Man, just go,” Hunk said, wiping away an eyelash. “He’s not gonna think it’s weird. Just go.”

“Okay,” Lance said, breathing deeply. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck,” Hunk said, and then Lance was gone.

While he was walking towards 7E, he thought about what he could say. He didn’t want to just sit there and talk about the project, or worse, sit in silence and work on the project. He should definitely apologize- for what, he wasn’t completely sure of, but it was a good start. 

The ‘7E’ plaque on the door seemed to stare him down. He rubbed his hands together and knocked before he could turn around and walk away.

He almost did anyway, after fifteen solid seconds of staring back at the plaque, but then Keith was unlocking and opening the door and standing there, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

“I-” Lance blinked. “You said to come. Um. Whenever.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, and he made no move to open the door a little more.

“So…” Lance gestured awkwardly. “Can I come in?”

Keith flinched and nodded. “Oh! Uh, yeah. Sorry. I just woke up from a nap. Come on,” he said, and he turned around and walked back into his dorm, letting the door swing open.

“Sorry for waking you up.” There wasn’t much in his room. There was a knife on the dresser, his sheets were red, and there was a small polaroid thumb-tacked to the wall of Keith and some other guy. “Who’s that?”

Keith glanced over from his closet, which was where he was getting his backpack. He turned away and said gruffly, “My dad.”

“Oh,” he said, and then he felt awkward because there was nowhere to sit except the bed and Keith sounded like he had zero intention of continuing their conversation. “So, cardiovascular system, huh?”

Keith ignored him and dropped an overflowing folder on his bed and sat criss-cross next to it. After a moment, he looked up at Lance. “Are you gonna sit?”

“There?” He asked, pointing to the other end of the bed.

“Where  _ else _ ?” Keith asked, exasperated, but he immediately slumped and rubbed his eyes again. “Sorry. Yeah, you can sit down.”

Lance pulled out his binder and flipped to the tab labeled  _ Anatomy. _ “So,” he said, thumbing the edge of his paper. “Your room doesn’t help your ‘I’m not edgy’ case.”

“You’re not helping your ‘I’m not a tool’ case,” Keith said. “You’re still dressed up like you’re the bad boy from a 2000s movie and you’re still acting like an ass.”

Lance opened his mouth to object again, but then he stopped and stuffed his hands in his jacket instead. Hunched, he said, “Sorry.”

“What, are you not actually the jackass you try to convince everyone you are?” Keith snarked, but then his fingers clenched on his paper and he sighed. “I- that was uncalled for.”

“A bit,” Lance said stiffly. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it-”

“No,” Keith interrupted. “I- Shiro told me to be more- I don’t even know how to say this without being totally fucking embarrassing.”

Lance’s interest was piqued. “Shiro? Like Takashi Shirogane? The pilot graduate? Our pilot instructor?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “Listen, Lance, I’m not- I’m not good with… social stuff. So I’m sorry if I come off as… stony.”

“Stony,” Lance echoed. 

“Yeah,” Keith muttered.

“Man, you aren’t punk at all. You’ve just got a shit fashion sense and you’re socially awkward,” Lance said, grinning a little lopsided.

Keith glared at him. “See, there you go again, being a total  _ asshole _ -”

“I’m not-!” Lance said, raising his hands defensively. “Listen! I tend to joke around more than I should, okay? Your clothes aren’t shit, and I mean, yeah, you’re socially awkward, but some people are just like that.”

Keith set his jaw. “Yeah. Some people are just  _ like that _ .” He sounded way more bitter than Lance thought he would be.

“You’re right, though,” Lance said, looking down at his papers. “My bad boy image is just an aesthetic I happen to like. So I wear it. But I’m  _ not _ an asshole. Why did you think I was?”

“The first thing you did was call me beautiful,” Keith said, like that explained everything.

“Uh, yeah?”

Keith glared at him (again, which Lance didn’t appreciate). “Don’t. You  _ know _ what I mean.”

“No, I don’t!”

“You were-” Keith squeezed his eyes shut. “Now I feel like I read things all wrong, okay? You were just making fun of me. I guess it’s easy to make fun of the  _ gay _ kid.”

“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Lance said, still trying to think of when he’d ever made fun of Keith for being gay. He was pretty sure they’d had one conversation before he sat with him that morning. “Why would you think that?”

“You were-” Keith’s face burned. “You  _ flirted _ with me, you giant fucking  _ tool _ !”

“I wasn’t-!”  _ Except you were. You were flirting, you stupid, pining idiot.  _ So maybe Keith wasn’t oblivious- but was that really a  _ bad _ thing? Usually Lance flirted so the other person would  _ know _ he liked them, so why was this different? “Okay. Yeah. I was flirting with you. Sort of,” Lance added hastily. “And I’m not a tool.”

“You  _ are _ a tool,” Keith muttered darkly. 

“If I’m a tool, you’re the whole fucking toolbox, Kogane,” Lance said, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t flirting to make fun of you. I just… flirt.”(That probably wasn't the best thing for him to say.)

“Tool.” Keith paused. “Playboy. Other cliches.”

“Would you like me to flirt exclusively with you?” Lance asked, only half-joking, hoping he’d say yes, because then at least he’d have an excuse (but he was going to flirt with him anyway).

“No,” Keith said, harsher than necessary. “Just- listen, just stop. Can we  _ please _ just focus on the project?”

“I’d rather focus in on you,” Lance said, winking. Keith just gave him a flat stare. “I mean, I’ll work on the project, but can’t we talk about other stuff, too?”

“What else is there to talk about?”

“I don’t know!” Lance threw up his arms and looked around again. “What’s the deal with Shiro telling you you’re bad at talking to people?”

“He’s my… brother,” Keith said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if that was the right word. “He’s 25, so he can be a legal guardian.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I try not to broadcast it. People would think he plays favorites with me and I wouldn’t do that to him. So  _ try _ not to run your mouth about it.”

“He doesn’t play favorites,” Lance said, remembering all the times Shiro had reprimanded Keith during the piloting class. “If anything, I think he’s a bit harsher on you. I mean, he doesn’t tell everyone they’re shit at being social.”

“He sets higher expectations for me than the rest of his class,” Keith said, shrugging. He was flipping through his Anatomy textbook and writing things down. “I guess that’s what family does. And he didn’t tell me I’m shit at talking, he just said I need to put myself out there and people think I’m mean because I don’t talk to them.”

“People don’t think you’re mean. They think you’re that edgy punk kid.” He squinted at Keith’s shirt sleeve. “Which you only have because black clothes cover oil stains the best?”

“I work on my motorcycle a lot. Sometimes fluid or gunk just gets on you.”

“So,” Lance said after reading over parts of his textbook, “what’s up with the motorcycle?”

“It was my dad’s and I’m too broke and too lazy to get a car,” Keith said, not looking up from his notes. “When do you want to start typing up the presentation?”

“I’ll start typing you up,” Lance said, and then he cringed. “Wow. That was bad, especially for me.”

“What was that even supposed to be?” Keith looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“A pick-up line!”

“Why are you using a _pick-up_ _line_ on me?”

Lance blanched. “Because… I wanted to use a pick-up line. And you’re right here, what a coincidence!”

“Well, don’t,” Keith said, shuffling his papers, smile gone. “When do you want to start typing the actual presentation, Lance?”

“We can start it tomorrow,” Lance suggested. “I don’t really care when. Whatever you’re good with is fine.”

“Okay,” Keith said, and they just made small talk for the rest of the time Lance was there. He left just before 6:30.

  
  


“Hunk, he’s not punk at  _ all _ .”

“What?”

“He’s actually nice, and not a total ass, and he just wears a lot of black clothing. He’s emo at best.”

Hunk grinned. “You’re whipped.”

Lance groaned into his pillow. “Yeah. I’m  _ whipped _ .”

  
  


**Wednesday**

“Is that a stuffed animal?”

Lance could’ve punched himself for not seeing it the first day. Keith turned pink and moved to shove the pastel purple hippo behind his pillow. “No.”

“That makes you an adorable toolbox,” Lance said, poking his shoulder. “Did you name it?”

“Him,” Keith corrected, and he flushed all over again. “I mean, yeah, a long time ago-”

“What’d you name him?”

Keith just looked at him before sighing. “Atlas.”

“Why Atlas?” Lance asked, pausing what he was doing (which was highlighting definitions of atriums and ventricles in his notes). 

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounded cool to eight-year-old me.”

The more Lance talked to Keith, the more he realized Keith wasn’t purposefully withdrawing from people, he was just unsure of how to approach them. He wanted to talk to people, but he didn’t want to impose on them, either. “I had a stuffed shark. He’s at home, though.”

“What kind of shark?”

“He’s a whale shark.”

“Did you name him?”

“I called him Leandro Jr. because I’m boring and uncreative,” Lance said, smiling a little. “Then I renamed him to Polo because my brother’s name is Marco and I, being the amazing comedian I am, thought it was funny.”

Keith snorted. “Polo’s a cute name,” he said. “Why is Leandro Jr. uncreative?”

“Leandro is my real name,” Lance explained. “Lance is my nickname. So it’s uncreative.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “I didn’t know that was your real name.” He glanced at the papers in his lap. “As much as I just _love_ talking about stuffed animals, can we  _ please _ work on the project?”

“I’ll work on anything you ask me to,” Lance said, raising an eyebrow and smiling. Keith didn’t react; he just pressed his lips together and looked back down at his notes.

Lance thought about how attractive Keith was when he was concentrated instead of working.

  
  


**Thursday**

Over the next couple of days, Keith seemed to smile more and was more willing to laugh around Lance. He didn’t even react as negatively to Lance’s (weak) flirting. When they had Anatomy A/B again on Thursday, Keith smiled at him when he sat down, and Lance’s heart almost burst. 

“Hey, man,” he greeted, pulling out his pencil. “You ready for this test?”

“I think so,” Keith said, smiling a bit. “I was up all night thinking about it, but I think I’m ready.”

“I was up all night thinking about you,” Lance said, shooting Keith a quick finger gun and grinning. Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance’s finger, seemingly unimpressed.

“Tool.”

“You say that, but it’s really a compliment because tools are useful for getting things done. Like tests that only the Anatomy A/B kids have.”

“The Psych class after us has some big exam. Maybe the Physics class. Thursdays are usually test days.”

“That sucks for them,” Lance said, absentmindedly scrawling on his desk. He wrote  _ You’ll do great on the test today! _ and hoped that whoever sat there in the Psych or Physics class appreciated it. He underlined ‘great’ and covered it with his sleeve when the professor came around to pass out tests.

He felt confident when he turned it in.

  
  


“Hunk, do you think I should get another piercing?”

“And why, please tell me, would you want  _ another _ piercing? Where would you even get it?” Hunk and Pidge were supposed to be doing their engineering homework together, but had gotten sidetracked and were playing cards. “Your ears are  _ full _ , dude.”

“Maybe I’d get a nose piercing,” he said, poking at his face in the mirror. “And there’s a free spot on my right ear. Ooh, would you still talk to me if I got a tongue piercing? Or  _ nipple _ piercings?”

“No,” Hunk said flatly.

“A dick piercing!”

“Absolutely  _ not _ -”

“Just get another ear piercing,” Pidge said, shuffling the cards. “Don’t get anything super obvious on your face or you might get in trouble. I know Iverson’s a hardass about it. He made me take out my nose piercing so often it almost closed up.”

“I could get a belly button piercing,” Lance said, patting his stomach. “But I think I’m just gonna get another ear piercing. I don’t know when, though.” He left the bathroom and sat down on Hunk’s bed, just above Hunk and Pidge on the floor.

“Are you trying to impress someone?” Hunk asked dryly.

“Hunk!” Lance swatted at him with a pillow. “No, I am not! He thinks I look like a tool, anyway. That exact word.”

Hunk pressed his lips together. “I mean…”

“I don’t look like a tool! I look like a cool guy! I used to see skater types in California all the time. They look cool, Hunk, not like  _ tools. _ ”

“You’re too big of a sweet dork, it cancels out!”

Lance made a noise of indignation. “You can be nice and be a punk!”

“Who thinks you look like a tool?” Pidge asked, pausing her shuffling for a moment.

Lance sighed dramatically. “Keith.”

“Kogane?”

“Who else is named Keith at the Galaxy Garrison?”

“Fair point,” Pidge said. “I’m kind of friends with him. We share an art class.”

“What?” Lance slid to the floor to sit with them. “Keith does art?  _ You _ do art?”

“It’s an easy credit,” Pidge said, shrugging. “Looks good on college applications. Shows I’m a well-rounded student and other BS. Anyways, yeah, he draws a lot. We sit together in the corner because everyone else in there is so annoying and  _ loud _ for whatever reason.”

“Is he, like,  _ good _ at drawing?” Lance asked, straightening his back. 

“I think so,” Pidge said. “They’re always proportional. I’m pretty sure that’s like, the first badge you get as an artist. Your arms aren’t ridiculously long? Congrats, you’re a good artist.”

“So he’s the emo who sketches,” Lance said thoughtfully. He glanced at Pidge’s hands. “What’re you guys playing?”

“Crazy 8’s, because I left my Uno deck in my room,” Pidge said, scowling. “Then we’re playing Trash because that’s what I am after that disaster of a Physics test.”

“Deal me in?”

“Yup,” Pidge said, and she started to deal out the cards.

  
  


The project was pretty much done. Lance was checking things off on their rubric and going over some things with Keith. The atmosphere was dry, and Lance didn’t like it, so he started a new conversation.

“Do you draw?”

Keith eyed him warily and didn’t answer for a couple seconds. “I guess.”

“What does ‘I guess’ mean? Aren’t you in an art class?” Lance pressed. “You must be, since I’m so  _ drawn _ to you.” (He was pretty proud of himself when he came up with  _ that _ one.)

“How do you know I’m in an art class?” Keith asked, ignoring the line, but Lance could’ve  _ sworn _ the tips of his ears were red.

“Pidge.”

“Oh, yeah, Pidge. She’s nice. I like her. She doesn’t talk a lot, either, which makes some days a lot easier.” Keith zipped up his backpack and stood up so he could shove it in his closet.

“Some days?”

Keith scratched at his arm and looked away. “Days that are harder than others, you know? Where I don’t feel like putting as much effort into reading people.” He hesitated. “I have Asperger’s, so it’s just more work for me a lot of the time.”

“What?” Lance’s mind took a moment to catch up. “You’re autistic?”

 Keith shrugged, but he was looking intently at the laptop screen instead of Lance. “Diagnosed when I was seven. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay,” Lance said, and Keith was right, it wasn’t really that big of a deal. “What part of the project are you on right now?”

“The slide about the left and right atrium.” Keith flipped to a diagram in the textbook. “You know how fast blood goes through the heart and stuff?” 

The words were out of Lance’s mouth before he could stop them. “My heart blood goes crazy every time I see you.”

“Do you just memorize those and wait for opportunities?” Keith asked, putting down his pencil. “And that was really, really bad. Heart blood?”

“I save them for you,” Lance said, and he flashed a winning smile. “Don’t judge me. It just means my heart beats like crazy.”

Keith set his jaw and looked back to his laptop. “Whatever.”

Lance frowned. That wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. After another ten minutes of talking, he slung his bag over his shoulder and paused before leaving. “See you around?”

“See you around,” Keith said, and he waved. He didn’t seem that annoyed anymore.

  
  


Friday at four in the afternoon, Lance knocked on Keith’s door. He wasn’t sure if Keith was even in there- what if he had a class? But he knocked anyway, and sure enough, a few seconds later, Keith was opening the door.

“What are you doing here?”

Lance frowned.  _ Not the reaction you want from the guy you want to date. _ “Well, you said come over whenever, and I thought maybe we could wrap up more details about the project?” That was a lie. He just wanted to see Keith.

“Are you here for a reason, Lance?”

“Uh, yeah? To wrap up the project.”

Keith’s arms were crossed. “We finished yesterday.” He tone was hard.

Lance blinked. “Did I do something to make you upset? I didn’t realize you’d be so against me coming here. What happened to ‘come over whenever’?”

Keith turned around and let the door swing open. “Fine.” He picked up a sketch pad off his bed, closed it, and shoved it in his drawer. 

“You were drawing?”

“I tend to do that.”

Lance made a face. “Seriously, man, did I  _ do _ something? Why are you so upset?”

Keith turned around and looked Lance in the eye. “You didn’t _do_ anything to make me upset. I’m just upset.”

Lance rubbed his arm. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Aren’t we friends?”  _ Aren’t we at least that? _ “I mean, come on, we’re at  _ least _ friends now. You’re my favorite toolbox.”

“Listen, Lance,” Keith said, rubbing his eye and giving a frustrated sigh. “I like you.” And almost immediately, his arms were crossed like he was hugging himself and he seemed to shrink. “I mean- you’ve been- at least I think you’ve been flirting with me. And it sucks because then I have to sit there, listening to some straight boy practice his pickup lines on me, and even though I did my best, I still ended up getting an even bigger, even stupider fucking  _ crush _ on him than I already  _ did _ .”

Then Keith turned around and sat on his bed. “I’m sorry. I know this makes things weird. So you can just... leave now, I guess.”

Lance was processing. “You think I’m straight?”

“Is that all you heard?” Keith asked, exasperated. “And what do you mean, I  _ think _ ? You flirt with girls all the time.”

“Keith.” Despite the fact that he’d been out for a long time, he still found the words a little difficult to say. “I’m bisexual. I just don’t flirt with a lot of the guys here because  _ they’re _ straight. And I haven’t… really been flirting with anyone except you. Recently.” Lance’s tongue felt thick in his throat. Admitting that took more guts than he thought, but it was easier after Keith’s… whatever that was.

_ He likes you, _ he suddenly realized.  _ Keith likes you back. Tell him you like him. Tell him it’s mutual. _

“Why only me?” Keith asked. He was leaning forward a little and looking at the ground, elbows on his knees. “Don’t give me bullshit right now, Lance, this is embarrassing enough. Just give me  _ one _ clear answer?”

“I thought you were attractive the first day I walked into our piloting class. And I’ve liked you since you got the top score on the flight simulation. I  _ like _ you,” Lance said, “even if you’re a toolbox.”

Keith stared at him. “Are you fucking serious? You’re gonna call me a tool and say you like me in the same breath?”

“Not a tool,” Lance reminded him, “a toolbox.”

“That’s even worse!”

Lance didn’t say anything, just let the realization really sink in. “So, you like me?”

“Did I really need to inflate your ego even more?” Keith muttered. “Yes, Lance. But you…” He trailed off.

“It’s mutual,” Lance confirmed, and he took a step forward before pausing. “Uh. Are you… comfortable?” He opened his arms hesitantly.

Keith stood up and accepted the hug, letting out a shaky breath. Lance rested his chin on Keith’s head and tightened the hug. 

When Keith pulled away, he huffed out a laugh. “This is embarrassing.”

“No way,” Lance said immediately. “This is good. This is great, actually. You know how relieved Hunk is gonna be when I tell him he doesn’t have to listen to me whine about how great you are?”

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled. “You talk to people about me?”

“Only two,” Lance said, “and it was only ever me talking about how much I like you. So you have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

“Hey, what do you mean you liked me more than you already did?” Lance asked, remembering that specific sentence from Keith’s little monologue. “You said you got a bigger crush than you already did. Did you like me before the project?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Lance, but you’re attractive,” Keith mumbled. “Of course I did. But  _ you _ did, too, don’t think I forgot about you saying that.” Then he squinted at something by Lance’s head and said, “Is that… a tattoo?”

Lance flushed. “Oh, shit. Um, yes?”

“Power tool,” Keith said. “It looks cool, though. Is it supposed to mean anything?” He brushed some of the hair behind Lance’s ear away so he could get a better look at it.

“It’s just a little wave,” Lance said, blushing a little. “My family lived in Cuba before we came to America, and I would always go surfing with my older sister and brothers. So I got a little wave before I came to the Garrison. They all have one, too. Marco has it on his wrist, Veronica put it on her ankle, and Luis put it on his hip.”

“That’s sweet,” Keith said. “Not as much of a power tool anymore. Maybe a screwdriver or something.”

“You’re still the whole toolbox,” Lance retorted, smiling stupidly.  _ I could get used to this. _

(He already was.)


	2. Power Tool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is lidderally just fluff scenes i wrote that don't really fit in any of my other fics so have some established klance fluff

**A couple weeks later**

“Hey, Hunk-!” Lance’s voice cut off. Keith came in to see what had happened. “Oh. He’s not here.”

“No kidding,” Keith said, sitting on the end of Lance’s bed. “Where is he? It’s Sunday night. There’s nothing to do except finish homework or try and sleep early.”

“Maybe he’s doing something with Pidge,” Lance said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter! Just means we have the whole dorm to ourselves.” He grinned. “The night is young. And I love you!”

Keith blew a strand of hair out of his face and smiled at Lance, squeezing his hand. Lance had come to learn that Keith preferred not to say ‘I love you’ with words. Lance stood up to get Hunk’s tablet that had Netflix on it and started going through his list. “Anything in particular you wanna watch before curfew?”

“She-Ra?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lance said, playing the third episode. He leaned against his wall and set up the tablet so it could stand on his bed. Keith leaned against him, holding his hand. Lance started rubbing his thumb along the side of Keith’s index finger.

They watched two episodes before Keith rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, which Lance knew meant he was exhausted. “Hey, it’s almost 9 anyway,” he said. “You don’t wanna break curfew. I’ll walk you back to your room.”

“Mmkay,” Keith mumbled, and he sat up to stretch. He tapped his ear and said, “Don’t forget to take out your piercings.”

“I should tell you that,” Lance said, putting the tablet back on the dresser and walking out with Keith. 

“You’re cleaning the new one, right? You don’t want to get it infected.”

“Yes, Keith, I’m cleaning it. I’ve had piercings before, you know.” He gave Keith a lopsided smile.

“I’m just making sure!”

“I know, you big softie,” Lance said, bumping his shoulder. They started going up the stairs. “Not very edgy of you to care about my ear, but I’ll allow it.”

“I’m not edgy for caring about your cartilage infections,” Keith groaned, running his hand along the stair railing. “I still don’t know why you thought I was  _ trying _ to look like a douche.”

“Are you saying I look like a douche?”

“I’m saying you try to.” Keith glanced at him and smiled a bit. “It doesn’t work. Your face is too sweet. And cute.”

“Stop getting so sappy, Keith!” Lance laughed. “I can  _ totally _ work the bad boy aesthetic.”

Keith stopped in front of his door and patted Lance on the shoulder. “We both know that’s total bullshit, but it’s okay.” He smiled, so Lance leaned over to kiss him.

“See you tomorrow, edgelord,” Lance said, waving, satisfied with the look of shock on Keith’s face.

  
  


“I like it,” Lance said, lacing his fingers together. His arms were around Keith’s waist and he had his chin propped on Keith’s shoulder so he could see the sketchpad on Keith’s lap. “I think you’re developing your style.”

“You think so?” Keith asked, pressing the eraser on his pencil to his cheek. “I feel like it’s all over the place.”

It was a small portrait of Lance. Keith had written  _ Leandro _ at the bottom with a tiny heart next to it. Lance had called him a sap and Keith elbowed him.

“Yeah. I like the freckles and the curly hair. I think you made me cuter than I am in real life.”

“I don’t think you understand how cute you are in real life,” Keith mumbled. 

Lance craned his neck so he could kiss Keith on the cheek. “I love you.”

Keith sighed contentedly and laced his fingers with Lance’s, turning his face so he could kiss Lance on the cheek. They laid there for a little while, and only realized they’d fallen asleep when they woke up two hours later.

  
  


“Hey, I got you the cookie dessert for you,” Lance said, sitting down on the bench next to Keith. “I know you hate the Jell-O texture.”

“Thanks,” Keith said, smiling. Lance gave him a butterfly kiss and turned back to his lunch tray. They had gotten a new lunch program and new lunch ladies, so the food wasn’t bad like it had been the first year they were there. Today was Mac n’ Cheese day. Lance had gotten Keith a pear and an apple for himself.

“I’m glad they got that new program. I like it when my apples are crunchy and aren’t already yellow on the inside.”

“I like that they have red pears and green pears,” Keith said, picking up his fork and poking around the Mac n’ Cheese. “I prefer red pears. I just like them a lot.”

He was looking around and still pushing his food around. “Do you want to eat somewhere else?” Lance asked. “I don’t really like it here.”

“It’s really loud,” Keith admitted, and he looked down at his fork. “And yeah, I don’t really… like how many people chew with their mouth open.”

“We could go outside. Not a lot of people are there because it’s really cloudy and breezy.”

“It’s nicer when it’s colder, anyway,” Keith said. “I don’t like how hot it gets in this school.”

“Me, neither,” Lance said, and they picked up their trays and left to cafeteria to find a picnic bench outside. They sat by the fountain shaped like a rocket ship.

  
  


“Stop being stupid and let me cuddle you.”

“But I wanna be the big spoon.”

“You were the big spoon last time,” Lance said. 

“You’re being a tool.”

“I just want to be the big spoon! Stop being so emo and let me be the big spoon. If we don’t take this nap now, then we aren’t going to be able to nap before curfew.”

Keith huffed. “I don’t think being the little spoon is very punk of me.”

“You can be the big spoon next time,” Lance said, with zero intention of doing that because this was  _ really _ comfortable.

Lance felt Keith finally relax completely and heard his breathing begin to even out. Just as Keith was drifting off, Lance whispered in his ear, “For the record, you still look like a power tool.”

“You’re still the toolbox,” Keith mumbled, and Lance just smiled against the back of Keith’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> whew lads


End file.
